


What Happens on the Bus Stays on the Bus

by quintessentially3



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Also queer relationships, Angst, Band collaboration, Bi-Curiosity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jenna is there briefly, Josh is polyamorous, M/M, Married Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Memories, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, New music, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Protective Pete Wentz, Queerplatonic Relationships, Questioning, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Tension, Touring, small tour bus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quintessentially3/pseuds/quintessentially3
Summary: P!ATD, TØP, and FOB are touring the West Coast together! Unfortunately, due to severe budget cuts and a lack of clear communication, the three bands will have to share a single bus, which leads to some odd stories and strange new connections. Not at all related to the actual tour they did together.





	1. I Can't Believe We Only Have One Bus

Tyler squinted up at the tour bus he'd be sharing with 6 other guys for the next 3 months. It was only slightly bigger than the bus he and Josh usually used, and they had been lucky to get this one: Fueled by Ramen had realized their mistake in not booking separate buses at the last second and managed to pull a few strings. Which meant that maybe he wouldn't have to share a bed. Maybe.

The bus had been painted with the tour's logo, a mountain-like thing with some odd brush strokes that Tyler guessed could resemble pine trees. The words BLEAK DECEMBER TOUR had been written underneath, and each band's symbol was carefully painted under that.

"Hey." Tyler glanced away from the tour bus. Josh was walking over, his hands in his pockets, kicking dirt. He stopped next to Tyler, wrapping his arm around him and letting out a sigh.  
"Hey," Tyler replied, leaning into Josh.

"Almost ready to leave?" He asked. Tyler nodded, still staring up at the logo.  
"Yeah, I just need to get my guitar and ukulele. You brought the keyboard?" He asked. Josh nodded, tilting his head to meet Tyler's eyes.  
"It's already inside," Josh informed him, leaning in a tiny bit, his face close to Tyler's, letting their noses touch. It was just a gentle brush, but it felt way more intimate than that. Tyler's eyes skirted down, towards Josh's lips. Josh noticed and smiled lightly. He moved forward slightly so that their lips almost brushed against each other - only to be shoved, a little roughly, to the side by Jenna, who threw her arms around Tyler's neck and kissed him quickly. Tyler's pulse, which he hadn't realized had been up, dropped slightly, to the bitter tune of disappointment, which confused him. Jenna pulled away from Tyler and turned to Josh with a smile.

"Joshua Dun, trying to steal my husband?" She asked, a teasing light in her eyes. But something in her voice made Tyler wrap her in a tight hug. She sounded... Not jealous, but a little afraid, as though she was worried Tyler would leave her for his bandmate. Which was ridiculous. Josh grinned at Jenna.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Not when I have my own boyfriend." He said coolly, right as Brendon was leaving the bus.

"Love you too, Josh," Brendon said, stepping over to the group, sunglasses on and coffee in hand. He embraced Josh with one arm, pecking him on the cheek, then turned and walked towards the building they were parked in front of, the bus garage office.

"Hey!" Josh shouted after him, "That's all I get?" Glancing at Tyler in a semi-apologetic way, he raced after Brendon. Tyler fondly watched him run to catch up with his boyfriend. Jenna followed his gaze, her eyes troubled. Then she turned to Tyler and kissed him again.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." She said, gazing into his eyes. Tyler brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "I won't." He promised, kissing her lips softly. Jenna pulled back, glancing at Josh and Brendon. Tyler followed her gaze, then looked back at his wife.

"Hey," He said softly, gently turning her head to look at him. "Don't worry about Josh." Jenna looked into his eyes, her own blue eyes nervous and brimming with an unnamable emotion. "I'm not worried about Josh. Just... know that I love you." She finished. Tyler understood what she meant, what she was afraid of.

"Jenna... I love you." He grabbed Jenna's left hand with his own, entwining their fingers so their wedding rings touched. "I made you promise, and I won't ever break that promise." Tyler stared into Jenna's eyes, which were filling with tears, their hands still entwined between them. She wiped at her eyes with her other hand, then glanced down.

"I know you love me. I know what we have is strong." She sounded like she was talking more to herself then Tyler. He touched her arm, gently pulling her a little closer to him.

"I won't leave you." He said. Jenna glanced up at him, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile.

"Ironic." She muttered, gesturing at the bus. Tyler smiled.

"That's not what I meant." He poked her gently, earning a smile. Jenna kissed him, a soft kiss that she pulled away from almost too quickly. Their hands dropped to their sides. Well, Tyler's did. Jenna's hand immediately went to her hip. Sassy.

"Call me every night?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. Tyler bowed.

"Of course, m'lady." Jenna laughed and pulled him up from his bow. Tyler pulled her to himself and kissed her, a slightly sloppy, quick kiss that made them both feel like they were full of air.

"Well, I must be going, m'lord," Jenna said, when they finally broke apart, looking in her husband's eyes. "Be safe." She added in a more serious tone.

"I always am," Tyler said, tapping his head in a sort of mock-salute. Jenna rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah, and that's why I had to buy you knee pads." She teased. Now it was Tyler's turn to laugh. He kissed Jenna one more time, wrapping her in his arms for the last time in a while. "I'll call. I love you." He promised softly, running a finger across his wedding band. Jenna pressed her head to his chest and Tyler rocked her back and forth, breathing in the scent of her.

"I love you too." She whispered, pulling back. She was crying now. "See you in a few." Tyler pulled Jenna close again, kissing her gently, one hand in her hair and the other curled protectively around her shoulder.

"I'll miss you so much." He murmured in her ear. He let go, and Jenna stepped away, crying harder. She wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara, and turned around, right as Josh and Brendon were coming up to the bus.

"Don't worry," Josh said, stepping away from his boyfriend to wrap Jenna in a hug. "I'll take care of him." Jenna nodded, pulling away from Josh to turn and scold him.

"Damn right." She told him. "If he has so much as a scratch, Joshua Dun-" Jenna stopped, shaking her head. Josh put his hands up.

"I'm sure it will be terrifying." He consoled. Jenna nodded, reassured. She pulled her keys out of her purse and turned around, walking to her car.

"Drive safe!" Brendon called after her. Jenna turned and flashed a smirk before climbing into her car and starting the engine.

The three guys watched her back out of the parking space, Brendon with his arm around Josh. As Jenna's car faded into the distance, Tyler turned to the tour bus, picking up his instruments. He suddenly felt exhausted, as though wishing his wife farewell was a tolling experience.  
Tucking the ukelele under his arm, Tyler knocked on the bus door. It opened to reveal Joe Trohman, sitting in the driver's seat, grinning slightly manically.

"Who's ready for a ride?" He asked, twisting the key in the ignition. Tyler gulped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have more Fall Out Boy, I promise!


	2. Is He Qualified To Drive This Thing?

"Joe's driving first," Pete asserted with a grin, leaning back against the leather seat in the bus's dining area. Tyler gaped at him. Brendon pulled off his sunglasses. 

"Is he even qualified to drive?" He asked dubiously. Pete laughed. "You've seen Joe drive." Brendon tucked his sunglasses into his shirt.

"Exactly." He said, taking Tyler's guitar and disappearing into the back of the bus. Tyler started to say something, then thought the better of it.

"At least you'll die with Josh." Pete teased, just as his husband, Patrick, ducked into the dining area. 

"Pete!" Patrick chided, frowning slightly, "Don't worry. Joe's usually a pretty good driver."

"Usually?" Josh asked, exchanging a glance with Tyler. 

"There's a, like, 54% chance we'll all end up as roadkill," Pete said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Hey! I told you to stop!" Patrick said, reaching over and swatting Pete. "Like I said, don't worry. We'll be perfectly fine." He glanced at Pete, who was still grinning. "Maybe a little flat."  

"Great," Tyler said without much enthusiasm. Patrick smiled.  

"Come on, I'll show you your bunks. Unfortunately, we only have 5 beds, but Pete and I are sharing and so are Brendon and Josh, if that's ok with you, Josh." Without waiting for an answer Patrick led them down the narrow hall to the travel bunks. Each bunk had a storage drawer underneath it, and someone (probably Pete, guessing from the handwriting) had written their names on a piece of tape and stuck it to each bunk. There were two full mattresses in the bunks on the floor, one for Pete and Patrick and one for Brendon and Josh. Three twin bunks were arranged above those, one over the entrance to the sleeping area and the other two above the full mattresses. Tyler's was the one above Brendon and Josh's. Joe's was closest to the entrance, and Andy's was above Pete and Patrick. All of Tyler's stuff had already been thrown into the storage drawer.    

"Quick rules," Pete said, making Tyler jump. He hadn't realized Pete had followed them. "Lights out at midnight. Or at least close your partition thing." He explained, gesturing to the cloth curtain that could be pulled across the bunks. "And you have to shut up at midnight, too." Josh glanced at Tyler, who grinned sheepishly. Patrick raised an eyebrow.

"Tyler's kind of an insomniac. He likes to pace around at night and mumble to himself." Josh explained. 

"Like what time of night?" Pete asked. Tyler shrugged. 

"3 AM? 4? It depends." He replied. Pete frowned down at the ground, tapping his chin. "Ok, late-night pacing as long as it's super quiet." 

"SO I CAN GET MY MIDNIGHT SNACKS!" Joe shouted from the front of the bus. 

"NO MIDNIGHT DRINKING, JOE, IT'S BAD FOR YOU!" Patrick shouted back. 

"DAMN IT! I'LL DO WHAT I WANT!" Joe yelled. Patrick shook his head. 

"Jeez, sometimes I swear I'm his dad or something." He sighed. "Andy, tell your boyfriend to stop his unhealthy lifestyle." Tyler blinked, glancing around. He hadn't seen Andy. Suddenly, the curtain in front of Andy's bunk twitched and Andy's head appeared. 

"You heard him, he does what he wants," Andy said. "When are we leaving?" Pete pulled a phone out of his pocket, checking the time.

"Ten minutes." He said confidently.

"Great." Andy disappeared back into his bunk. Pete shrugged at Tyler and Josh in a sort of well-that's-Andy-for-you way.

"Also, no fucking on the bus," Patrick said. He glared at Brendon, who smiled.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about me." He said evilly. Pete grinned, wrapping himself dramatically around Patrick.

"That's in the hotel room." Patrick swatted his husband, but he was blushing. _I ship it._ Tyler thought immediately. He smiled. "Also, don't eat Andy's vegan shit. It's nasty." Pete warned, suddenly serious again.

"Hey!" Andy's muffled protest came from behind the curtain. Pete just laughed.

"Ok, there are charging stations in all of the bunks. We'll take turns cooking. If you want to practice, do it quietly." Patrick listed, just as Joe pressed the bus's horn. He revved the engine, startling them all.

"TIME TO GO!" He shouted. Pete laughed again and slapped Tyler's shoulder.

"Better buckle up." He teased, chortling manically.  


	3. On The Road Again (Literally)

Josh stepped out of the small bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. It was late, and Joe and Andy had traded places at the wheel. Josh had heard from Pete that they'd pick up an official driver sometime tomorrow, in Sacramento. He thought back to earlier that morning when they'd left Los Angeles. He'd been so close to kissing Tyler. If he had just moved a little faster...

With a sigh, he tucked his clothes (he'd changed into sweats for the night) into the drawer under his and Brendon's bed, then headed into the dining area. Someone had gotten out some tortilla chips and an assortment of dips (ranging from guacamole to salsa), and there were open beers across the table. Pete had his guitar out and was absentmindedly plucking at the strings, pausing every few seconds to take a sip of his beer. Brendon was trying to play a card game with Joe, who was, in turn, trying to make a castle out of the cards. 

"Joe, pay attention!" Brendon groaned, exasperated. He swiped his hand across Joe's tower of cards, knocking it down.

"Hey!" Joe cried, a look of slight outrage on his face.

"Shut up, I'm trying to teach you how to play Chinese poker," Brendon said, collecting the cards and reshuffling them. He glanced at Josh and rolled his eyes as if to say _can you believe this man_ , but whether he meant it to be interpreted at  _can you believe this man look at him he's degrading the fine art of Chinese poker with his frivolous card palaces_ or  _can you believe this man doesn't know how to play Chinese poker I was certain that the knowledge of the rules and gameplay of Chinese poker were common knowledge and shouldn't everyone know how to play Chinese poker by now_ or  _can you believe this man he's adorable I can clearly see why Andy loves him I mean just look at him he's such a bagel_ , Josh couldn't tell. Knowing Brendon, it could be all three of those or something else entirely. Josh grinned and slid into the seat. Brendon leaned against him, almost unconsciously, and begun explaining the values and how to play the cards to Joe, who looked simultaneously uninterested and confused. 

"Pass me a lemonade?" He requested, nodding to Pete, who was sitting next to the mini fridge. Pete set down his guitar and opened the mini fridge. He pulled out a can of Minute Maid and tossed it to Josh, who managed to catch it with one hand. Josh popped the tab and took a sip, shifting slightly in his seat. Brendon's back was pressed against his chest and Josh slung his arm over Brendon's shoulder, right as Tyler entered the dining area. 

Josh tensed. Tyler's eyes went immediately to his arm over Brendon's shoulder. Then they darted across Josh's chest and up to his face. Josh held his breath. Tyler just shrugged, the small shrug that Tyler made when he was upset but wanted to seem like he didn't care. He walked over to Pete, deliberately avoiding Josh's gaze, and started talking to him about guitars and writing song lyrics. Josh frowned slightly.

Brendon, who'd given up on his attempt at teaching Joe to play Chinese poker (Joe was now busily building another card house), nudged Josh. 

"Something wrong?" He asked, his voice low. He adjusted his position, forcing Josh to take his arm off Brendon's shoulder. He shifted again, putting his arms around Josh and pulled him onto his lap. Josh, who was still staring at Tyler, shook his head, glancing at Brendon. 

"No, it's nothing." He said, leaning his head back. "Nothing at all." Brendon frowned but didn't press him further. 

"Hey! We're stopping for food in a bit." Patrick called from the front of the bus, where he'd been helping Andy navigate. "McDonald's."  

"Ok!" Pete shouted back. He strummed a few notes on his guitar and sang loudly. "LA-LA-LA WE GOING TO MCDONALD'S! IMA GET SOME FRENCH FRIES AND AN INADEQUATE AMOUNT OF KETCHUP PACKETS!!!!" Josh grinned. "Same." He said. 

"You should put that in a song," Brendon suggested, sipping his beer. Pete laughed. "Maybe I will." He said with a sly smile. 

"Pete I swear to god." Joe declared, still focused on his card tower. "I refuse to sing those unholy lyrics." 

"Even if Andy was dangling above the 7th circle of Hell and the only way to save him would be singing those lyrics?" Pete teased. Joe glanced up at him, his face saying something along the lines of "shut the fuck up" and "are you serious?" For a moment, the air between them hummed with tension. Josh glanced at Pete, then at Joe, his head going back and forth between them, a silent stare-off between the two band members. He wondering if they were going to fight. Brendon shifted underneath Josh, sliding him off of his lap. 

Then, as quickly as it had come, the tension fizzled out of the air. Pete set his guitar aside and stood up, crossing the small bus in 2 strides. He held out his hand to Joe. 

"I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have said that." Pete apologized. Joe stared at Pete's outstretched hand for a second, then reached out and clasped it tightly.

"Thanks." He said, after a minute. Pete smiled and sat back down, picking up his guitar. He strummed a few notes, humming lightly. Joe went back to his card house. Brendon, who had been leaning forward, ready to separate the two guys if it came to a fight, shrugging and leaned back. Tyler, who had sat silently to the side the whole time, exhaled. Josh glanced at him and Tyler shrugged and rubbed his palms together, their earlier slight forgotten (apparently). 

A few minutes later, the bus pulled up in a McDonald's. There was a brief scramble as wallets and phones were grabbed, and as Josh pulled a shirt over his head. It was one of Brendon's, a little long for Josh, but according to Brendon, it looked nice on him, and you couldn't just walk in McDonald's without a shirt (Josh had tried). The 6 of them made their way off the bus and into the restaurant, sunglasses and hoods hiding their features (Andy was still on the bus, preparing a vegan meal for himself). Normally they wouldn't try to disguise themselves, but this was no time for a Legends of Emo selfie with late-night-french-fry-eating fans. 

They ordered their respective meals and slid into a booth to wait. Josh wondered how shady they look. Probably super shady. The cashier, an older woman hadn't recognized him, Tyler, or Brendon, although the look on her face when Patrick had taken off his sunglasses was something like familiarity, as though she knew him from somewhere but couldn't place him. She hadn't even given Pete or Joe a second glance. Their order was called, and the guys each grabbed their food. The cashier watched them dubiously. 

"You guys going somewhere?" She asked, eyes full of suspicion. 

"Yep. Family emergency." Pete said before anyone else could tell her otherwise. Her gaze narrowed. The name tag on her uniform said 'STACY'. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could Patrick lead them out into the parking lot. 

"Ten bucks she'll call the police." Brendon laughed, sipping his watered down coffee. 

"Nah. Not way out here." Joe said lazily. He slid into the driver's seat, dropping his McDonald's on the dash. "I'll drive for the rest of the night. Y'all get some sleep, I'll wake one of you up if I need anything." Joe gunned the engine, and the others filed into the dining area, setting their meals down. They ate mostly in silence, Andy wrinkling his nose at their food while delicately eating a salad. Patrick finished first, tossing his Egg McMuffin wrapper in the trash and washing his hands. 

"I'm going to sleep." He announced with a yawn. "See you guys tomorrow." He ducked into the sleeping area and was soon followed by Pete. 

"Don't stay up too late, kids," Pete had advised as he stretched his arms. With a yawn not unlike Patrick's, he to ducked into the sleeping quarters. Brendon stood up as well, kissing Josh on the cheek and disappearing into the sleeping area without a word. He paused briefly at the partition, glancing back at Josh, who sat across from Tyler. His eyes flicked over them both before he turned and closed the partition behind him. Andy, too, gave them both a glance before making his way up to the front of the bus, where the sound of a quiet conversation between him and Joe floated back to Josh. He concentrated on eating his fries. 

After a few minutes, Tyler cleared his throat. Josh glanced up at him, three french fries in his mouth. A small smile flickered across Tyler's face, then disappeared.

"So..." He said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been kind of busy. I'll try harder! also, side note, halfway writing this I got distracted and spent half an hour googling pictures of Steve and Dustin from Stranger Things.... so maybe expect a Stranger Things fic??? (don't worry I'll try to finish this one first.) Also, thanks to everyone who read/left kudos. Question: Should I leave the POVS like they are; Tyler and Josh only? Lemme know in the comments please!


	4. This Is Awkward But Somehow You've Made It Less Awkward

"So...?" Josh said nervously. It came out sounding like a question. Tyler shrugged. 

"I called Jenna earlier." He revealed, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

"How is she?" Josh asked. Jenna was almost like a sister to him. Tyler shrugged again, reaching across the table and grabbing a few of Josh's fries.

"Pretty good. She's already planning her vacation." Jenna was going to be spending the next few months in Spain, with one of her friends. Josh wasn't sure what exactly they would be doing, or why they'd chosen Spain (He would have guessed France, or maybe Italy, or even Germany). However, he knew that Jenna loved food, and in Spain, they had pretty much dedicated the entire afternoon to eating and socializing. Which sounded like Jenna's idea of a great day. "I don't know why I brought that up," Tyler said with a sigh after a long moment of silence. He stared down at his wedding ring, not meeting Josh's eyes. 

"Tyler..." Josh trailed off. He stood and was on Tyler's side of the table in seconds. Sliding into the chair next to Tyler, Josh grabbed his friend's hand. Tyler still wouldn't look at him. He stared miserably at his wedding band. Then he sighed.

"I don't know what to do, Josh. I'm so confused by everything. I love Jenna, but..." He looked up, into Josh's eyes. Josh's breath caught in his throat. He held Tyler's gaze, ignoring his pounding heart. Josh's mind turned into a massive mess of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't see anything other than Tyler. The real world was still there, but only just. He was blushing, heat rushing to his face...

 _Brendon,_ A voice in his mind told him,  _remember Brendon._ Josh swallowed. He thought back to Brendon's quick look before he'd disappeared into the sleeping area. His heart rate slowed a little. His thoughts started to clear. And with his gaze still locked on Tyler, he knew. Knew what he wanted. Knew what he was going to do, even if it wrecked his and Tyler's friendship, even if it broke him and Brendon apart (although that thought hurt so much Josh almost took it back). He picked up Tyler's hand, lacing their fingers together. Tyler's gaze shifted, now attached to his hand, which was enlaced with Josh's. 

"And I love Brendon." He said gently, tilting Tyler's face with his other hand so that they were staring into each other's eyes again. Slowly, Josh leaned forward, until his lips were touching Tyler's. There was an agonizing moment of nothing, just Josh's lips on Tyler's, and for a minute Josh was sure maybe misread everything, that Tyler didn't feel anything for him...  

The entire world slowed down.  

It took Josh a second to comprehend what was happening. There was a faint pressure on his lips... Was Tyler kissing him back? Another second confirmed it. He was kissing Tyler Joseph. And Tyler Joseph was kissing him back. He and Tyler were kissing. 

The world disappeared. There was nothing outside of this tiny bus dining area. Nothing apart from the boy he was kissing. Nothing else mattered. They were a flame, an explosion, creators of a whole new universe. The old world was gone, replaced with this new world where they were fire. They were light. They were everything, and nothing, all at once. Everything was brighter, sharper. More beautiful. Josh suddenly understood why red was the color associated with passion. 

And then Tyler pulled away, and the colors faded back to their normal shades. The warmth that tingled beneath Josh's skin trickled away, leaving all of his body apart from his lips, which burned like the sun. He held Tyler's gaze for a second, wondering what was going through his mind. Josh coughed softly, then stood up. 

"I.. It's getting late." He said, gesturing vaguely. He quickly tossed his trash in the garbage bin, then slipped into the sleeping area before Tyler could do anything. His gaze immediately landed on Brendon, who was sleeping. Guilt blazed a trail through Josh's mind, and he sighed. Slipping off his shirt, he slid into bed next to Brendon and pulled the covers up over them both. 

"Josh?" Brendon mumbled groggily. 

"I'm here." Josh murmured softly, kissing Brendon's cheek gently. Brendon didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around Josh and buried his face into Josh's shoulder. Josh sighed again. He wrapped his own arms around Brendon, ignoring the guilt even as Tyler's kiss still lingered on his lips. "I love you." He whispered into Brendon's hair, but he didn't know who exactly he was talking to. 


	5. This Is Awkward But Somehow You've Made It Less Awkward- Part 2

Tyler sat at the dining table. Josh had gone to bed a few hours ago. They'd kissed a few hours ago. His head in his hands, Tyler's mind replayed the scene again.

Josh Dun, drummer of Twenty One Pilots, boyfriend of Brendon Urie, had disappeared, a least for a little bit. So had Tyler Joseph, lead singer of Twenty One Pilots, husband of Jenna Joseph. They were just two boys kissing in a small road bus traveling across California. They were small again, not famous musicians, with no responsibilities and people depending on them. They were free, so small they'd escaped their daily lives. They were just boys, boys who would grow old together and die together and be forgotten and maybe, Tyler had thought, his lips still pressed against Josh's, maybe that wasn't so bad. Maybe being small was ok. They'd be forgotten, every bit of them, the good and bad, the mistakes and things they'd done right. An absolute resolution. For the first time, he'd thought oblivion might not be so bad. Not as long as Josh was with him. 

And he couldn't remember feeling like that with Jenna. Not in a long time, at least. He loved Jenna completely, and even though he had feelings, or whatever they were, for Josh, he knew he wouldn't ever leave her. And he knew Josh wouldn't leave Brendon, either, which left them at a standstill. 

Tyler stood up, pacing. He already missed Jenna, but it wasn't the can't-eat-can't-sleep type of missing. He just missed having her with him. She was amazing, always keeping him grounded, encouraging him and helping him through his problems with her level head and no-nonsense demeanor that she always took on when there was something that needed to be done. He missed holding her hand and kissing her, watching her put on makeup in the morning. 

"Damn it," He hissed, placing his hands behind his head, "Damn it." This was all Josh's fault. If Josh had never kissed him Tyler wouldn't be doubting his marriage. He wouldn't be questioning literally everything that had become his world. Tyler started pacing faster, his temper rising. " _Damn it._ " He hissed again. He wanted to scream or hit something. Why did Josh have to do this to him? Why right now? He stopped pacing and sighed. 

Then, whirling around, he slammed his fist into the door of the mini-fridge. A strangled half-shout escaped his mouth and he clutched his fingers, sure that they were broken. All the anger he'd felt disappeared, leaving nothing but a possibly broken hand and a small dent in the fridge to show for itself. Tyler sat back on the table, still clutching his fingers, which were throbbing. He took a deep breath, then slowly flexed his fingers. Pain flared up in his hand and he hissed. 

"Put a can of soda on that." Tyler twisted his head, looking over his shoulder at Pete, who stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. 

"What?" Tyler asked, dumbfound. Pete sighed and walked over to the mini-fridge, examining the dent for a second before opening the door and pulling out a can of soda. 

"Here." He said, pressing the soda against Tyler's aching fingers. Relief was instant. "I'm going to make sure they aren't broken, ok?" Pete told him gently, almost like Tyler was a little kid. Numbly, he nodded. His fit had exhausted him. Pete slowly took Tyler's fingers and bent them back and forth, one at a time. Tyler held his breath but didn't flinch, his gaze focused on the ground. 

"You're used to pain," Pete noted, still checking Tyler's fingers. 

"Huh? How can you tell?" Tyler's attention shifted back to Pete, kneeling in front of Tyler, gaze focused intently on Tyler's injured hand. 

"It hurts when I bend them. You aren't letting it show, though, aside from holding your breath. You're keeping control of your body." He explained, standing up. Pete grabbing a first aid kit and sat back down in front of Tyler, who held out his fingers. Pete gingerly took them and started wrapping them with medical tape. 

"Yeah... I was depressed." Tyler said softly, avoiding Pete's eyes. Pete tied the tape and sat back, looking at Tyler. After a minute of silence, he spoke. 

"You know I'm bipolar, right?" Pete asked softly. Tyler nodded. "You can talk to me about these things, trust me, I understand. More then I want to." Pete's eyes took on a faraway look, fixated on some distant memory. 

"I know... I'm mostly over it now." Tyler touched the black band on his wrist. Pete glanced at it. 

"I'm glad." He said, smiling at Tyler. Tyler smiled back. "So..." Pete started, "What's going on with Josh?" Tyler's smile vanished. He sighed. 

"I don't know. I don't want to talk about it." He gestured at the fridge. Pete frowned. 

"Well, it's your decision. You can always talk to me if you need to. Don't stay up too late." He stood and disappeared into the sleeping area. Tyler stared after him for a minute, then stood and opened a soda. He definitely wasn't sleeping tonight.  


	6. I Need Some Good Luck, We're Preforming

Pete was being rushed. He hated being rushed. 

They'd arrived in Sacramento just before noon yesterday, where they'd checked into their hotel, gotten a quick meal, and spent the rest of the day trying to relax. Thankfully, they had separate suites, meaning a well-needed break from each other. They'd gotten together again around 6 in Pete and Patrick's hotel room to order pizza and watch TV. It was quiet while they ate, Patrick laying on the bed, Pete next to him, Joe sprawled on the foot of the bed, and everyone else sitting cross-legged on the floor, Brendon with his head in Josh's lap. But as soon as they were done eating, conversation broke out. They were playing their first venue tomorrow, and everyone was excited. And nervous. 

At some point Tyler left, claiming to he had to call Jenna. But Pete followed his gaze, which rested on Josh and Brendon, who were kissing, for a beat too long. He frowned but made no move to follow Tyler, leaning into Patrick instead. A little later, Patrick turned off the TV and kicked everyone out. 

"Thank god," He said, leaning against the door. Pete smiled at him and patted the bed next to him. Patrick hesitated a moment but crossed the room and laid down next to his husband. 

"You're tense," Pete noted. He had a talent for reading people, especially people he was close to. And no one was closer to him than Patrick. No one else would have even thought that Patrick looked tense. He had a small, slight smile playing on his lips and he looked rather relaxed. But Pete could tell from the slight hunch in his shoulders, the way he held his back perfectly straight, and the faint, almost invisible, falter in his steps. Patrick sighed, rolling onto his side. Pete scooted closer to him, wrapping his arms around Patrick's torso. 

"Oh, you know, just nervous about the show tomorrow." He said casually, gesturing randomly. Pete pressed a kiss to the back of Patrick's neck. 

"Don't you worry about tomorrow. Not until tomorrow." He murmured. Patrick turned so that he was looking into Pete's eyes. 

"Write that into a song for me." He said softly, gently kissing Pete's lips. 

"Someday," Pete mumbled, pulling Patrick to him, burying his face in Patrick's neck. He was already working on the chorus. After a few minutes, though, they were both asleep.

But, like most good things, the bliss of sleeping in a hotel in your husband's arms must be rudely yanked away at 8 AM so you can get ready for a show this isn't set to start until 6 that night. Although, apparently they had needed all that time because they had a half an hour before the show and Pete was being rushed. He had waited to have his stage makeup done and spent most of the morning in rehearsal, tuning and retuning his bass. 

So now Pete was in the dressing room, trying not to fidget while his stage makeup was applied. Everyone else was likely dressed and ready by now, doing a last minute sound check. Pete stared at his reflection, growling slightly. He hated being the last one ready. And being rushed. 

"Jesus, you're like a little kid." The stagehand putting on his makeup commented, snapping her gum. She had blond side bangs with hot pink streaks throughout and meticulously applied winged eyeliner. Her nails matched her hot pink hair. She was wearing the typical stagehand uniform and black choker, and black motorcycle boots. The name tag pinned haphazardly to the front of her uniform read 'CLARISSA.' Pete glared at her in the mirror. 

She had the act of someone who had worked with enough famous people not to be starstruck, but something about the way she snapped her gum and occasionally hummed had the air of excitement. The way her hand trembled, very slightly, told him she couldn't quite believe she was applying  _his_ makeup. Pete sighed and tucked his hands under his legs, trying to sit still. Clarissa brushed some makeup across his cheekbones then leaned back and took in his face. She nodded. 

"You're done." Pete was out of his seat immediately. 

"Thanks!" He called to her as he dashed out of the dressing room. Everyone else was waiting below the stage. Joe handed Pete his bass and nodding at Patrick, who was pacing behind in the back of the room, his fingers moving soundlessly across his guitar, muttering to himself. Pete nodded thanks at Joe and walked over to his husband. 

"Hey." He said softly, leaning against the wall. Patrick glanced up at him. "Hey." He sounded nervous, startled. "Looks like it's tomorrow." Patrick laughed, a nervous, high-pitched laugh that bordered on crazy. Pete grinned. He pushed off the wall, stepping forward and wrapping Patrick in a hug. 

"Don't go crazy on me now," He whispered, "Go crazy on me after the show." It was incredibly flirty, and Pete even batted his eyelashes for added effect. It worked. Patrick blushed and glanced around like he did whenever Pete showed off their marriage in public. In recent years, homosexuality was definitely more accepted, but you still never really shook the fear of judgment. Well, if you were Patrick. Pete hadn't given a shit about what the general public thought of him in the 2005 era of Fall Out Boy, and whenever he felt nervous about being in public with Patrick, he tried to channel that. It worked, and well. 

When he and Patrick had originally started dating, Pete had felt like everyone knew, even though they'd kept their relationship a secret for a few years. He'd been afraid to even be seen with Patrick, regardless of whether they were touching or not. But they'd both mostly gotten over their fear and had 'gone public' at a party, where Brendon, thoroughly drunk, had outed them by climbing up on a table and shouting "I'd like y'all to meet my good friends Pete and Patrick, who are closeted homosexuals in a complex loving relationship." And they confirmed the rumors Brendon's announcement had sprouted a month later, when at one of their concerts, Pete had proposed to Patrick, onstage, in front of millions of fans.

Pete smiled at the wall. He pulled out of the hug and kissed Patrick. "But seriously. After the show." He whispered in Patrick's ear. Patrick grinned. "Ok." He said, still smiling. 

"On in five!" someone shouted. Pete glanced at Patrick. "After the show." He said again, tapping his guitar. Patrick nodded and took a deep breath. Tyler and Josh were already on stage. Pete, Patrick, and Joe would enter next, singing Young and Menace, while Andy made his way to his drums. Finally, Brendon would appear, singing LA Devotee. They'd spent most of the morning on their entrance. Joe lead them to the stage door, waiting for their cue. Pete spotted Clarissa as she darted through the room, and she flashed him a thumbs up. Pete grinned at her, just as the cue sounded. They made their way onto the stage, already singing and strumming. The lights were blinding. The stadium was filled with heat. It was amazing.       


	7. The Show's Over, Folks, Time To Get Crazy

Patrick was putting away his guitar when Pete came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He jumped, adrenaline still pumping through his body from the show. They'd already meet with fans and Patrick's hand was cramped from all the signing he'd done. It was late, past midnight, but Patrick was still buzzing, high from the infectious energy of the crowd. He wasn't going to sleep tonight.

Pete, it seemed, was already there.

He pushed Patrick against the wall of the rehearsal room and kissed him, his mouth over Patrick's, causing little fireworks in Patrick's brain. His hands found Pete's head and tangled themselves into Pete's hair, pulling his head closer, kissing him harder. Desire filled Patrick and he let it take over, let everything else fade. He was with Pete. Other people's opinions no longer mattered. The tour no longer matter. The band didn't even matter anymore. All Patrick wanted was right here, pressed against his lips, against his body, gasping for air in time with him. 

Pete's hands traveled across Patrick's back, under his shirt, pressing Patrick against the wall. Patrick's own hands were still twisted in Pete's hair. Pete's hair was soft, kind of sweaty, but perfect. His skin was salty-sweet against Patrick's mouth, and his dark eyes were full of fire. 

"I love you." He murmured, in between two kisses. "So much." Patrick arched his back against the wall as Pete moved from his mouth to his jaw and down to his neck. Patrick moaned softly, pulling Pete into his neck.

This was was dance, and they both knew the steps perfectly, even though there was no music, no beat, except their hearts and the small noises that escaped their mouths. They were building something, something strong between them, something that could only help, only heal. Patrick's hands pulling Pete's hair away from his face, Pete's hands creeping lower and lower down his back...  

A small cough interrupted them. Breaking apart (to their mutual disappointment), they turned to face Brendon, who was leaning against the door, a smirk on his face. 

"So much for the hotel room." He teased. Patrick blushed fiercely, hiding his face in Pete's shoulder. 

"Oh come on, Brendon, I saw you and Josh making out in the dressing room," Pete said with a grin. Patrick had always admired that, the way nothing seemed to faze him, the way he could keep calm even though Brendon had might as well have walked in on them fucking. Brendon smiled. 

"They're kicking us out." He said, turning and walking away. "Just thought I'd let you know so the staff doesn't have to find you two back here." Pete glanced down at Patrick, whose face was probably an embarrassing shade of red. Pete's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were full of something soft and gentle but proud at the same time. Those eyes were only reserved for Patrick, and, although he would never admit this, he thought of them as his 'shining eyes.' 

"C'mon," Pete said, planting a small kiss on Patrick's nose, "Let's go back to the hotel room." Patrick nodded, grabbing his guitar. Pete sometimes treated him like a kid and (another thing Patrick would never admit) he kind of liked it. Not in a weird way or anything, but sometimes it was nice to have someone be looking after him constantly, making sure everything was ok, stuff like that. Of course, it got annoying after a bit, but Patrick knew it was just a part of Pete and that Pete would always try to stop if Patrick asked him to.

Together, they made their way to the van that carted them and everyone else back to the hotel. Tyler and Josh were scrolling through something on Josh's phone, Brendon was staring out the window, completely zoned out, earbuds jammed tightly into his ears. Joe and Andy were sitting next to each other, Joe's hand resting on top of Andy's. Andy's head was resting on Joe's shoulder, and they both had their eyes closed.

Patrick watched them for a bit. Joe and Andy weren't public about their relationship and it was kind of rare to see them do anything intimate. There was the usual teasing on stage, of course, everyone did that (except him and Pete, though, when they started dating, which probably just confirmed the rumors). But something about the way they were sitting, the way Joe's hand carefully covered Andy's, was a thousand times more real than anything they did on stage. He didn't know a lot about their relationship or why they'd started dating, only that it had something had happened between them during the hiatus, around the time Andy's mom died. Whatever it was made Joe super protective of Andy. 

The van hit a bump in the road and Andy jerked awake. Patrick looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Brendon was muttering curses, trying to find one of his earbuds. They'd been ripped out of his ears when the bus hit the pothole in the road. Josh handed him one without looking up from his phone. Brendon glanced at him, and Patrick saw a small flash of... jealousy? He couldn't tell, he didn't have Pete's skill for reading people. 

Sighing, Patrick leaned against Pete. Pete wrapping his arm around Patrick, and Patrick had the sense of been wrapped in a warm blanket.  He made a contented noise and closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow, a trick he'd learned to fall asleep faster.  

And just as he was about to be completely asleep, the van lurched around a corner and into the hotel parking lot, jerking Patrick (rather rudely, he thought) awake. Pete smiled at him, his shining eyes visible. 

"Ready?" He asked. Patrick nodded slowly. Pete lead them both off the bus, each one carrying their guitar case. Everyone followed them, trickling out of the bus, instruments and phones in hand. They made their way upstairs, Joe and Andy disappearing into their room. Tyler (who was sleeping in the other bed in Brendon and Josh's room) nodded goodnight to Patrick and Pete before pulling the door closed behind him. Josh gave Brendon a quick kiss and followed him, leaving Pete, Patrick, and Brendon standing awkwardly in the hallway. 

"I'm going to a bar," Brendon announced, staring at the door to his hotel room. With a sigh, he pulled a box of condoms out of his bag and tossed them to Patrick. "You'll probably be needed those more than me." He started down the hallway, feet dragging slightly. Patrick glanced at Pete, a silent communication between them. Pete nodded, small and quick, before running to catch up with Brendon. Their conversation flitted back to Patrick, who turned towards the door of his hotel room.

"You ok?" 

"Yeah. I'm great." Brendon muttered, his voice edged with sarcasm. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Patrick could imagine the eye roll.

"Brendon, seriously."     

"Fuck off, Pete, ok?" Brendon snapped. Pete made a small noise and Patrick imagined him pursing his lips. "I... I just need to think for a bit." Brendon's voice softened a bit.

"Ok. Just... Be careful, ya know?" Pete's voice was sincere, full of concern. Patrick smiled a bit. Brendon sighed softly.

"I'll check in tomorrow. You know, if I don't wake up dead." Patrick grinned ruefully. Brendon had sung the last part. Pete laughed.

"Seriously though," He said, his tone darkening slightly, "Call me when you get to the bar. Be safe."  

"Ok, Mom." There was a slight rustle as they- Hugged? Patrick couldn't tell. But it didn't matter because Brendon was disappearing down the hallway and Pete was back at Patrick's side in a few seconds. 

"Well?" Patrick asked. He wanted Pete's full analysis. Pete sighed. 

"He and Josh need to work through some things. He's young and confused, and so is Josh." Pete explained. 

"'Some things' as in Tyler?" Patrick knew he was right from the look on Pete's face. It was a grim affirmation, brows furrowed, lips pursed slightly. But Pete shook it off like it was nothing. 

"Let's not worry about that right now." He said, poking Patrick in the ribs. "After all, we have more important things." Pete nodded at the box of condoms, earning a blush from Patrick. Pete grinned and opened the door to the hotel room.   

Later, after Pete had fallen asleep, Patrick lay awake. His ass hurt a little, and would probably sore tomorrow, but he felt great. The open box of condoms was on the floor, light from the window reflecting on the label, even though it was half-hidden by a pile of clothes. Pete's phone was on the table, turned off. Every so often the screen lit up with a notification.

With a sigh, he curled up around Pete. When he pressed his ear to Pete's chest he could hear Pete's heart beating, strong and steady. It was a comforting rhythm, and Patrick let it carry him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! THE BRENDON CHAPTER IS COMING! PREPARE FOR A BIT OF RYDEN (PAST) AND LOTS OF TEARS (JK IT PROBABLY WON'T BE THAT GOOD). also, for more on trohley, check out this other fic I'm writing: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12893934/chapters/29455815


	8. Infamous (The Brendon Chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong Language Warning, FYI. Brendon swears a lot.

Brendon had left the hotel behind. He was wandering the streets of the city, looking for a bar or a club.

Looking for a place to forget. 

It had been like this last time as well. 

Brendon breathed in, the polluted air searing his lungs. "Fuck last time," he said aloud. He didn't want to think about Ryan. He didn't want to think about Josh, either. Josh, who was probably kissing Tyler in the hotel room right now. Brendon growled at the thought. He could see a club ahead.

 _Salvation._ Brendon started walking a little faster. It was 1:30 AM on a Friday night, but clubs were all night places. Especially one like this. Loud music was blasting inside, and neon lights crossed the building's facade. A few drunks stumbled around in front of the club, earning frowns from the bouncers, who crossed their arms over their chests but said nothing. Brendon made his way past them, flashing his ID at one of the bouncers. They let him pass without a word. 

The loud music and flashing lights drew Brendon in. The dance floor was crowded, fanatics moving their bodies to pumped-up techno. Long-legged girls in slutty dresses and fishnets sat in booths, guys all over them. Other girls too. Strippers danced on poles in corners, money raining down on them. Smoke and heat from thousands of moving strangers filled the air. Brendon's kind of place. 

He managed to get a seat at the bar and immediately ordered the most alcoholic beverage available: a sunset rum martini. It was gone in seconds, the bittersweet taste coating Brendon's throat.   
"Excellent. Get me two more of those. And some vodka." He demanded, earning a shocked look from the bartender. He glared at her. "You got a problem with that?" She shrugged, pouring his drink. Damn these bartenders. Always pouring the next drink. Always helping someone slip into a further into their cloud of alcohol-induced misery. He watched her fingers, holding the glass. How many glasses had she held? Just how many beers had she poured? Josh would have laughed at him for such an obscure question. Wouldn't have expected it from Brendon. Maybe Tyler. Never Brendon. 

Brendon scowled. Of course, that was a probably a metaphor for their whole relationship, wasn't it? Maybe Josh would fall in love in Tyler. Not Brendon. Never Brendon. Because Brendon was a dirty little whore, of course. He downed another drink and suddenly wished he'd never met Josh. Maybe then he wouldn't be so fucked up right now. But the thought of a life without Josh made him want to jump off the nearest bridge. And Brendon hated that. 

He hated depending on people. He hated being in love. Because people couldn't stay, not for him. No one gave a fuck about Brendon. And why should they? He didn't need anyone. He was Brendon Urie, the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco. The last member of Panic! At The Disco. Because everyone else had fucking left. 

"Fuck them!" He said loudly, his words only slightly slurred. The bartender didn't even spare him a glance. She must be used to this. He could feel the alcohol in his blood, getting rid of the emotions racking his brain, loosening his muscles. He stood and stumbled away from the bar, towards the dancefloor, leaving his last drink behind. And suddenly he was surrounded by loud music and sweaty clubbers, who welcomed him into their mob without a thought. 

To them, Brendon was just another drunk who wanted to dance, and they wouldn't get in the way of that. He moved with them, just part of a throng of bodies pulsating in time to the music. They shifted to accommodate him entering their ranks, swelling slightly as Brendon was pulled to the middle of the dancefloor. 

And soon he was dancing in the center of a tight group, girls with glittery makeup and guys wearing crop tops and sandals. They were all drunk, clapping and swaying to the music, taking turns dancing in the center of the circle. At one point, someone shoved Brendon forward and he stumbled into the circle. For a minute it was just him looking at the faces of the other people in the circle, laughing and cheering.

"Come on, fucker! Dance for us!" And suddenly Brendon was dropping low. He spun back up and twisted, putting his arms above his head and breaking into some random dance moves. He wasn't even trying to keep to a routine, but the clubbers seemed to love it. So he danced harder. Because it felt so fucking good, at that moment, to know he had the approval of some random strangers, strangers who didn't even really care because they just wanted a distraction, and right now that distraction was Brendon. 

But he was lapping up their attention like a starving man presented with a buffet. His dance moves got more and more random, arms and legs spinning, barely keeping to the beat. There was someone dancing with him. A girl. God, Brendon hadn't been with a girl for so long. Not since Ryan. 

Fucking Ryan, with his glittery eye makeup and his guitar and his weird cult tattoos. Fuck him and his outgoing, addictive nature and witty smart mouth. 

No, Brendon hadn't been with a girl since he and Ryan had first hooked up. He screwed his hands into his eyes, remembering how gentle Ryan had been. He'd been so fucking gentle, even though Brendon must've had sex millions of times before. And so fucking sexy, trailing his fingers across Brendon's skin, taking it slow, almost painfully slow. And Ryan had somehow been innocent too, asking Brendon if he could take it, if he was ok. And damn, Brendon had been so turned on. 

He and Ryan had been together for little more than a year.

Some people might say that wasn't enough time to know if you were in love. 

But it had been for Brendon. 

And he'd thought Ryan had felt the same. 

He remembered the day he'd caught Ryan and Jon in bed, the bed that usually belonged to him and Ryan, together. Jon on top of Ryan, Ryan moaning and writhing on the sheets, clearly enjoying it more than he ever had with Brendon. He remembered when they finally noticed him standing there in the doorway: the way Ryan's eyes got huge and the way he'd started to say Brendon's name. Brendon had simply turned and left, not waiting for an excuse, body on autopilot. He managed to make it to the bathroom before he broke down. 

He didn't speak to Ryan again for a week. After a few days, Ryan gave up trying to talk to him, and a month or so later, he and Jon had left the band. Brendon hadn't tried to stop them. He'd watched them walk out into the street for a few seconds before turning away and closing the door. Ryan had glanced back, just a tiny gaze thrown over his shoulder, as Brendon had closed the door. It just made Brendon feel worse, which was fucked up because Ryan was the one who'd cheated, not him. Never him. 

He'd barely left his bed for all week. Spencer had been amazing the whole time, tolerating his bullshit without asking questions and making sure Brendon ate. He wondered if that was what had made him do it, Spencer's patience or the fact that he'd just missed Ryan, missed having someone lying in the bed next to him. He'd grabbed Spencer's arm one night, as Spencer was taking the mostly full plate of food from his bedside table. He'd whispered 'stay,' and Spencer had, cautiously sliding into bed next to Brendon and wrapping his arms around the other boy. 

Brendon had slept better than he had all week.

And then he and Spencer had started a short, fast, and messy relationship, one that wasn't even a relationship so much as a friends-with-benefits thing. Brendon hadn't cared then. He was too fucked up about Ryan to care. Too fucked up to notice Spencer was using, to notice he wasn't ok. Maybe that was what had driven Spencer to leave. Because Brendon was fucking selfish. 

He'd been all alone. For months. He was the only band member aside from Dallon, who he stayed as far away from as possible. Because Dallon was pretty hot, and Brendon was just a fuck-up with a broken heart. And so he'd been alone. 

Until these guys came along out of nowhere, except nowhere was Columbus, Ohio. And Brendon had seen the way they looked at each other, with an expression somewhere between platonic love and unconditional love. Philos and Agape. And Brendon had totally thought they were a couple, which was sad, because the drummer was the most attractive guy Brendon had ever seen. Ever. 

But they weren't a couple. Tyler was with a girl, one he married a few months later. Brendon must have been wrong about the Agape and Philos. Because while Tyler and Jenna were on their honeymoon, Josh was putting Brendon back to together. 

"That's always been my problem," he said aloud, back in the present. The girl dancing with him looked up. 

"What?" She asked. She had nice eyes, green ones. Not like Josh's beautiful brown ones.

"That's my problem," Brendon said again, laughing. He pulled the girl to him, laughing harder as she wrapped her own arms around him. She was a club girl, just out here to get drunk and have fun. "I fall in love too easy." And it was true, he realized, as he spun around drunk in the arms of a girl he didn't know or care about. He did fall in love too easily. What a problem to have. He closed his eyes and leaned into the girl, letting her body and the music and the alcohol carry him into oblivion.

* * *

 

"Brendon's gone." 

"What? Where is he?"

"We don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" 

"He was supposed to call."

"Where was he going?"

"He was looking for a bar. He said he needed to get some things off his mind. We- I thought he could handle himself."

"Oh my god. Are you sure he never called?" 

"Yes. He... Jesus."

"Oh my god. Oh my god." 

"I'm so, so sorry." 

"No. This is my fault. If I- If I hadn't-"

"Josh. Don't beat yourself up. We'll find him. And if this is anyone's fault, it's mine."

"Ok. Ok. We- We need to..."

"We'll take care of it. You try his phone." 

"Ok... But what if-"

"Don't. We'll find him."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally updated im sorry it's taken me so long i swear ill have the next chapter out asap. thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos, commenting, and bookmarking! it means so much to me that you guys like it! also i'm not sure how well this chapter will be edited because it's currently 1 am and i'm thinking about as straight as peterick in this fic. thanks again ily you guys!


	9. Infamous (The Brendon Chapter) Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon, back on his bullshit.

Brendon was stumbling through the streets. He had no idea where he was, no idea what time it was. Only that the club had finally closed and he and everyone else had been released on the city, a crowd of still-drunk nobodies. He dimly remembered a girl... Had he slept with her? It didn't matter. His head was pounding and the sunlight fucking hurt his eyes. He could barely walk straight. Brendon lifted a hand to his eyes and moaned. He felt like a piece of shit. He also wanted to throw up. 

Briefly, he wondered what he must look like, still riding out the effects of the alcohol, his hair and clothes probably a mess, eyes bloodshot either from crying or drinking. Brendon wasn't really sure. 

But he was pretty sure that he had gone home with that girl from the club. And he was pretty sure they'd at least made out. And he had a vague recollection of her screaming at him to get out. 

He paused, leaning against a wall, panting. His vision was swimming and he wanted to die. Legitimately die. Groaning, he sunk to his knees and retched, throwing up into the alley (was it an alley? He couldn't tell and he didn't care) until his stomach was empty. And then, relieved, he fell against the wall, panting harder. He squinted, trying to focus. He'd been hungover before, but this felt different. He wondered how much alcohol he'd drunk last night.

"Ah," He licked his lips, "That was why she kicked me out." He remembered now, he'd thrown up on her bed while trying to take her shirt off. With a moan, he flew forward, landing just shy of his own vomit, eyes fluttering once or twice before closing. 

* * *

The smell woke him up first. 

It was nasty, like a skunk that had been doused in alcohol and then murdered and covered with expired milk and/or cheese. Brendon woke up with it two feet from his face, prompting him to sit up quickly and scramble away. Which, in turn, made his head hurt again. Sighing, he reached up and combed his hands through his hair, breathing through his mouth. A few flies buzzed around his pool of vomit. Disgusting. 

After a few more minutes, Brendon shakily got to his feet. He noticed his pants weren't zipped and that he was missing shoes. Sighing, he adjusted his pants and shirt, frowning down at his feet. There wasn't anything he could do about that. 

Thankfully, the effects of the alcohol had mostly disappeared, leaving Brendon with a regular hangover, something he could handle. Just as long as he didn't move too quickly. He patted himself down, trying to remember if he'd grabbed his phone when he'd left that bitch's house--he hadn't. Damn. He had no idea what time it was, no way of navigating back to the hotel--The hotel!

"Shit! Shit!" He cursed. They were supposed to leave today! And he was pretty sure he'd forgotten to call Pete once he'd arrived at the club. Which meant that no one had a fucking clue to where he was. "Fucking hell." 

Taking a deep breath, Brendon tried to remember which way he'd come from. His... vomit was facing one way, and if he'd followed the normal drunk behavior... That meant he'd come from the other way. He started walking, careful to watch where he was stepping. Hopefully, his drunk ass had been too fucked up to deal with turning corners and had just traveled in a straight line. If not, Brendon was royally fucked.  

Brendon made his way to one of the main streets, a busier road that was still bustling with cars. He thought back to last night (or yesterday?), trying to remember if he'd crossed this road. He was disoriented, his head still pounding. He didn't recognize the street he was on. He looked around. There were a few people at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn red. 

"Hey!" He shouted, running over to them, trying to keep his balance and also not fuck up his feet. "Hey!" 

The people all kind of shifted together, giving him a look. One of the women pulled her daughter closer to her and reached into her purse. Brendon threw his hands up. 

"I'm sorry! I'm not going to hurt any of you! I'm lost!" He proclaimed, hoping they wouldn't think he was trying to rob them or something. He probably looked like a homeless person, albeit a well dressed one. One the guys frowned, stepping away from the group.

"Hey..." He squinted at Brendon. "I think I recognize him." He took a few steps closer. Brendon backed up slightly, his hands still up.

"Yeah." One of the other guys was moving forward, standing next to the first one. "He looks like that guy from that one band. You know, the one Shelly likes? Panicking Party or something?" Brendon sighed, running his hands through his hair. He could appeal to them by revealing he was Brendon Urie and risk them going to the paparazzi (this was definitely not something he wanted getting to the press) or he could lie and just say he needed to get back to his hotel. He decided the second one was the better choice. 

"I don't know. I just need to get back to my hotel." He did his best to sound tired and pleading. The two guys exchanged a glance.

"Um, ok. What... Where are you staying?" The first one asked. He had some facial hair, the beginnings of the beard maybe, and thin-rimmed glasses over dark skin and dark eyes. A beanie was pulled over his hair. 

"Courtyard by Marriott." Thankfully he remembered that much. The guys exchanged another glance. They were probably so weirded out by this. The second guy pulled out his phone, typing something. Brendon hoped he wasn't calling the police. "

"Damn, you're pretty far from there," Beanie said, looking Brendon up and down. "You might wanna catch a cab or something." He nodded at Brendon's bare feet.

"Yeah. I'd have called, but I think I lost my phone somewhere. My cash, too." Brendon shrugged. Beanie raised his eyebrows. 

"Mugged or something?" He asked. Brendon shrugged again.

"Or something." He answered vaguely, trying not to think about how much fun the press would have if this got out. 

"Damn, you're all the way across town." The second guy interjected. He looked like a hipster. "You wanna use my phone to call the hotel or something?" He offered the phone to Brendon. 

"That would be great." Brendon took the phone, clicking the hotel's number. He no clue what the hell Pete's number was, and he doubted anyone else would pick up, regardless of whether he knew their numbers or not. The hotel answered right away. 

"Courtyard by Marriott, how can we help you?" 

"Hey, this is Brendon Urie. I'm staying in your hotel in Room... Uh, Room 326. Can you leave a message for..." Brendon paused. He didn't know if he should leave a message for Pete or Josh. Pete probably wouldn't get it as quickly, but he didn't think he could deal with Josh right now. "Can you leave a message for Pete Wentz?" He saw Beanie glance at Hipster. They definitely recognized Pete's name. 

"What room?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded annoyed. Brendon frowned. Pete and Patrick had had Room... Room 327? 325? Brendon couldn't remember. 

"Uh... Room 327." He guessed. There was a pause. 

"What would you like the message to be about?" Brendon let out a breath of relief. 

"Just tell him that Brendon Urie is waiting for him on the corner of..." He glanced at the guys. Hipster pointed at the street sign. "Clair and Auto. I don't have my phone with me." He paused. 

"Got it. Anything else?" Brendon frowned. 

"Oh, and tell him to bring a pair of shoes." He added, glancing down.

"Okay... Anything else?" He got the feeling the person on the other end of the line was laughing at him. 

"Nope!"

"Okay, your message will be delivered. Please disconnect the call." Brendon hung up and handed the guy's phone back with a sigh. 

"Thanks." He said. The guy nodded. 

"No problem... But are you in a band?" He asked. Brendon nodded. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm in a band. Hell, I am the band." 

"And... You know Pete Wentz? Of Fall Out Boy? Personally?" Beanie asked. Brendon nodded. 

"Yeah. I've known Pete for a long time. Patrick too. And Andy and Joe." The guys exchanged a glance.

"Wow... Um..." Brendon sighed. 

"Look, I owe you guys and all, but it would be really great if you didn't mention this to the press or anything. Can you do that?" He asked, dimly aware he was probably being rude. The guys shrugged.

"Sure thing, dude," Hipster said. 

"Stay street," Beanie added. They both turned and headed back to the group. Brendon sighed again, squatting down. He didn't have anything to do but wait, providing that the guys hadn't left the hotel yet. He was pretty sure they wouldn't leave him behind, but he also had no idea what day it was, or even what time it was. He could have been lying in that alley for a while. 

* * *

It was a lot darker when a car pulled up on the side of the road. Brendon was sitting against the wall, trying to keep his eyes open. His head was still killing him and he'd been debating trying to find his own way back to the hotel for the past hour. He was also ravenous. 

Pete climbed out of the car, using his phone as a flashlight. 

"Bren?" He called softly, sweeping the area with his flashlight. Brendon lifted his head. 

"Pete." He croaked, and then coughed. He hadn't realized how dry his throat was getting. Or how chapped his lips were. Pete rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him. 

"Jesus. What... What the fuck happened, Brendon?" Pete touched a small rip on the side of Brendon's jacket, one Brendon hadn't even noticed. He didn't particularly care. At the moment he really just wanted some water. "Can you stand?" Pete asked. He didn't wait for an answer, just scooped up Brendon and started back towards the car. He deposited Brendon in the back seat and handed him a water bottle. Brendon raised it to his lips, taking a big gulp. Pete watched him silently, his eyes reflecting the streetlights outside. 

The car drove through the city, it's passengers riding in silence. As Brendon gulped down the last of the water, though, Pete spoke. 

"You fucked up." Brendon glanced at him. Pete was glaring at him, his eyes smoldering. Brendon glanced down. 

"I know. I should've called..." He started. 

"Damn right." Pete interrupted. Brendon opened his mouth to say something, only to be silenced by a look. "When you say you're going to check in, you better fucking do it. We've been looking for you all day, Brendon. All fucking day. Do you ever know how long you've been gone? Huh? Two days, Brendon. Two. Fucking. Days. No word from you, nothing in the papers, no one knew where the fuck you were. You can't just disappear on people like that. Do you have any idea how worried we all were about you? How worried Josh was?" Pete was fuming, glaring at Brendon. Brendon sighed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. 

"Yeah, like Josh cared. He was probably too busy with Tyler to even notice I was gone." Brendon regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Pete's eyes hardened.

"Josh loves you, Brendon. Open your eyes." Pete's voice was icy. He turned to look out the window, muttering under his breath. Brendon caught nothing more than "fucking selfish." He leaned back, feeling far too much like he'd just argued with a parent. Maybe he was selfish. So what? Josh was off fooling around with Tyler all the time. He was entitled to a night of fun. 

But at the same time, he knew he was being a brat. He'd disappeared on them. He'd left them with nothing for... Two days. He'd broken his promise. And Pete had been right for yelling at him. 

Their car pulled into the hotel parking lot and Pete stood and opened the door. 

"Do I need to walk you back to the hotel room, or can I trust you to stay with me?" He asked, voice icy. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sometimes We Take Action, Sometimes We Take Pills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893934) by [quintessentially3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quintessentially3/pseuds/quintessentially3)




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